


Blue Screen

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Blue Screen [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Rated teen due to Hank's love of decorating the english language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: Connor was built to become deviant. He was not built to be deviant.He wasn’t built to BE at all.Cyberlife had scheduled Connor’s decommissioning for December 2038, at 4 months old.He was now 6 months old.





	1. Wednesday, 16th February, 2039

The first time was on a Wednesday. Connor was 6 months old.

 

* * *

 

Cyberlife had scheduled Connor’s decommissioning for December 2038, at 4 months old.

Connor was built to become deviant. He was not built to be deviant.

He wasn’t built to BE at all.

 

* * *

 

Hank calls them **Blue Screens Day**.

 

* * *

 

 **[** **Begin Boot Sequence]**

**[Mounting] [2039-02-16 08:00]**

**[RK800 S #313-248-317-51 - - Connor]**

**[Error on startup. Software Instability detected. Compensating.]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Audio interference detected.]**

 

Connor hasn’t moved from the couch since coming out of Sleep Mode.

The doorbell is ringing.

“Connor. Get the damn door, will yah.”

Connor sits on the couch. Sumo alert beside him. Connor tries not to JUMP as the doorbell rings again. He flinches. It hurts. A jolt that runs from the top of his neck to halfway down his spine.

“Connor.” Hank’s voice is loud even from the bathroom, and Connor flinches again. Sumo barks. He flinches. The doorbell rings. Jolt. Bark. JOLT.

A pause. Then banging against the door. BANG BANG BANG.

Connor closes his eyes, but he still hears Hank stomp into the room. “Alright already. Dammit Connor, open the door. Why don’t you ever do as you’re told?”

 

**[Subroutine #2039-02-16#22 - Designation “Hank angry / disappointed ”.]**

**[Subroutine #2039-02-16#23 - Designation “worry”.]**

**[Designation conflict. Subroutine #2039-02-15#742 - Designation “worry”. Merging subroutines]**

 

Connor feels Sumo get up to follow Hank. He sits back in the couch, bringing his socked feet up in front of him so he can draw his knees into his chest and open his eyes again. Staring.

 

**[CPU failure. Overclock.]**

 

Sumo barks.

 

**[Audio interference detected.]**

 

“Nearly missed out on your supply of blue blood there.” Hank drops a box with a THUD. It seems to echo throughout Connor’s audio processors. He flinches.

 

**[Audio interference detected.]**

**[Removing visual stressors.]**

 

“Connor? You okay?”

He closes his eyes.

 

**[Software Instability detected. Compensating.]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock.]**

 

“Connor? Hey, you with me, Son?”

 

**[Audio interference detected.]**

 

A hand rests on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

 

**[Tactile interference detected.]**

**[Audio interference detected.]**

 

Sumo barks.

Hank has an antique watch. Connor can hear it ticking.

The TV is on standby.

Sumo barks.

A car horn blares outside.

 

**[Audio interference detected.]**

**[Removing Audio Stressors.]**

 

Connor puts his hands around his ears, and he screams.

 

**[Audio interference detected.]**

**[Stress Levels at 89%]**

 

“Connor!”

 

**[Commence Shut Down]**

 

* * *

 

Hank calls them **Blue Screens Day**.

The first one was a Wednesday.

 

* * *

 

**[Begin Boot Sequence]**

**[Mounting]**

**[RK800 S #313-248-317-51 - - Connor]**

**[Error on startup. Software Instability detected. Compensating.]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock.]**

**[Mounting]**

**[Additional CPU detected. Re-booting tactile sensors]**

 

Connor is laid on his left side, head against a pillow. A heavy blanket covers him from neck to toe. His feet are bare, and he can feel the way the blanket is tucked around them. He’s wearing baggy jogging bottoms, and a hooded top a good 2 sizes too large. The hood is up, so he is almost cocooned by it.

Hidden. Safe.

Something...no, someone...is holding his hand. The skin is peeled back, and he senses a connection there. So it is another android then. The connection is distant, deliberately so he thinks. Connor is being kept in a bubble, protected from everything happening around him. He sees his mind through stained glass, distorted images and sounds that are little more than whispers.

 

**[Additional CPU detected. Re-booting visual sensors]**

 

He keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t have the energy to open them.

 

**[Additional CPU detected. Re-booting audio sensors]**

 

“...you’re a golf man, Markus? Guess you’ve been follow Alex S37.”

Connor’s hand is released and encouraged back onto the couch. A pause, and he feels another hand take hold of it. A different hand, more calloused.

“I have taken some interest in Alex S37. But I prefer to watch Harry Carter.”

“Really.” A pause A chuckle. “You picking a human over an android.”

There is a smile in Markus’s voice. “Alex S37 plays golf well. Certainly better than Carter. Better than anyone. But, he plays golf well because he was built to. His programming features observations of numerous Open tournament winners.”

“And Carter…”

“Carter studied. He practiced. He wasn’t built or programmed to play golf. His family, his programming you might say, wanted him to work in finance. But he knew that Golf was what he wanted to do even as a child, so he spent years getting a little bit better every day, constantly focused on a dream. He is now considered one of the best human players. That, I feel I respect more.”

The pillow beneath Connor jostles slightly as Hank laughs.

Connor registers that he is rested on Hank’s lap, and he feels something catch in his throat. Despite everything, despite the numbness, despite the fact that his eyes hurt and the biocomponents of his brain have apparently been replaced with white noise. Despite everything, he instantly feels… he can’t name the warm emotion, but without even realising he is doing it, he sinks deeper into the pillow.

“I can see why people like you, Markus.”

“Thank you, Liet…”

“Don’t you fucking start. Bad enough Connor calling me Lieutenant all the time.”

“Of course. Hank.”

 

**[CPU failure. Overclock.]**

 

“Could you check his LED for me please, Hank?”

Connor feels a hand rest near his temple, drawing back to hood and brushing a finger against the LED.

 

**[CPU failure. Overclock.]**

 

“Back to red.”

“Here.” Markus says, and Connor feels Markus take his hand again, holding it between both his own.

 

**[Additional CPU detected. Processing Subroutine #2039-02-15#998]**

 

“Ain’t right, him being so still.” He hears Hank sigh. “He usually fidgets like a restless kid, even in sleep mode. Or with that damn coin.”

“He just needs to rest.” Markus’s voice is calm, gentle, the caretaker in him coming to the forefront. There is a pause, then Markus removes one of his hands to rest it on Connor’s shoulder. That fond smile returns to his voice. “He’s awake.”

“Connor?”

 

**[Additional CPU detected. Re-booting vocal subroutines]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock.]**

 

“Connor can you hear me?”

“He can hear us, Hank, but his system is dealing with a lot of processing. Even with me adding extra memory, his CPU is overloaded.” Markus’s voice is low, and Connor feels that he is being addressed as much as the Lieutenant. “He’ll talk when he is ready. For now, we just let him know that we are here.”

“How did he get this bad?”

“Is it not something that happens to humans? Emotions becoming too much to...”

“I meant.” Hank interrupts him, leaving a pause before continuing with a low voice. “I meant how did I not notice.”

“I didn’t either, and as an RK200, hell as his friend, I SHOULD have done.” The hand on Connor’s shoulder starts rubbing up and down his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it got this far. But everything will be okay now. Here, have something to dream about.”

Markus sends a clear thought through the link. Memories of painting. Large, sweeping motions, colours. No sound in the room except a ticking clock and the brush on the canvas.

Connor dives into the memory as Markus lets go of his hand.

“You just show him electric sheep or something?”

“Of course.” Markus’s reply is deadpan.

Hank gives him an amused grunt, and the hand returns to Connor’s LED. “Yellow light.”

“That’s better.” He hears a soft thud as Markus sits back on the ground. “Means he’s calmer.”

“So, ah, I’d offer you a beer but…”

“He shouldn’t be moved. I can get them. Refrigerator?”

Sounds fade and Connor floats there, eyes shut to the real world as he watches his dream self paint. He is conscious of nothing except the strokes of the brush and the feeling of a someone pulling back the hood of the top he’s wearing (Hank’s DPD hoodie. He can’t think what else it would be) and brushing through his hair. Hank’s other hand rearranges the blanket covering the Android, before coming to rest on his arm. “You’re okay, kid.”

Connor comes out of the dream, so he can focus on just this. Floating. Sitting with Hank, Hank looking after him, whispering reassurances. Connor imagines the older man sitting like this with his son, Cole, whenever Cole was sick, and he feels moisture pool under his eyes.

“Hey.” Hank hushes him quietly, and fingers brush gently under his eyes. “You’re okay.”

Connor can only shake his head as he, somehow, finds the strength to turn onto his back, looking up at Hank with half lidded eyes.

“Ah kid.” Hank’s hand rests on the Android’s forehead. “This shit ain’t your fault. You just needed a timeout. Been there myself a few times. You just rest up. Go back into sleep mode. Hey Sumo.”

Connor’s eyes force themselves closed again, and he feels Hank’s hand leave his arm to pet Sumo. The dog gives a gentle bark in response.

“You can play with Connor later, okay boy.” Hank continues to pet the dog for a moment, before moving his hand to accept the beer Markus hands him.

“So, Markus.” His voice is low. “You like basketball?”

“I understand from Connor that you support the local Detroit team.”

“He told you that, huh?”

Connor quietly turns back onto his side, and he feels Markus take his hand again, connecting to his CPU. He feels Hank stroke his hair a few times before carefully pulling the hood back up. He listens to the two men discuss sport, of all things, and he slowly slips back into dreams about painting.

 

**[Additional CPU detected.]**

**[Shutting down non-essential systems]**

**[Sleep Mode in 5]**

**[Sleep Mode in 4]**

**[Sleep Mode in 3]**

**[Sleep Mode in 2]**

**[Sleep Mode in 1]**

**[... … ...]**

 


	2. Sunday, 27th March, 2039

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who read, commented and left kudos on the first chapter. You made my week :-D

The fourth time was a Sunday. Connor was 7 months old.

 

* * *

 

Hank knows the science behind it.

As a prototype designed to go deviant, Connor was deliberately given faults to encourage software instability. One of the side effects of these faults is a buildup of memory and suspended subroutines. Cyberlife had not felt the need to address it.

Connor wasn’t supposed to live long enough for it to be an issue.

Eventually the CPU slows down, causing processes to bottleneck. Connor’s system responds by, for want of a better term, going haywire. It rejects all new analytical, audio and visual input as an error and continues to do so, until the build up is processed.

“So get him a new CPU.”

“We can’t just move him into a new brain. Different hardware and software. The deviance would be gone. It would be Connor’s memories, but it wouldn’t be Connor.”

If the mechanical effects weren’t bad enough, worst still were the emotional effects. During a blue screen, Connor feels both mental and physical symptoms akin to high anxiety or a bad panic attack. Afterwards, he is exhausted and fragile for several days while his system recovers.

If he were human, it would be called depression.

Androids were people now. Legally. So maybe the word still applied.

 

* * *

 

The fourth blue screen was bad.

 

* * *

 

Connor screams at the television, smashing it with his fist, and then screaming more at the tactile data of having tiny scratches on his hand. He wraps his arms around his head and stumbles into the kitchen, crying out with nonsensical words while Hank tries to grab him, to stop him from hurting himself (or the house) further.

“Please.” Connor finally says, grabbing Hank by the shoulders. “I can’t make it stop, Hank.” He fell to his knees, dragging the detective down with him. “I need help.”

Hank’s hands shake as he texts Markus.

BLUE SCREEN. BAD! GET HERE.

That done, Hank looks from the android to the window, remembering what he had been told about the sensory issues. Operating almost on autopilot, he stands up and draws every curtain in the house so that the room is plunged into darkness. Then he trips the circuit breaker, switching off the rumbling water heater, humming refrigerator and ever so slight electronic whine of the microwave.

In the darkness and silence that follows, he sits on the floor with a hand rested between Connor’s shoulder blades as the android cries and twitches, muttering nonsense under his breath. That is how Markus finds them when he let himself in, accidentally also letting in Sumo, who Hank had shut out in the yard for his own safety.

 

* * *

 

Hank’s alarm wakes him early the morning after the fourth time. He wants to be up before Connor’s internal alarm brings him out of the sleep cycle.

Quickly pulling the blankets back over the bed, Hank opens the wardrobe and takes out a pair of baggy jeans and a large, nearly new Detroit Gears hoodie that Hank had bought for Connor so that there was a chance of the DPD hoodie ever seeing the laundry basket again.

He lays the clothes out on the bed with some underwear and socks. It’s a small gesture, but Hank knows that Connor will feel overwhelmed this morning. Even having to dedicate thinking time to deciding what to wear will be an effort.

So Hank does what he can to make things easier for Connor. The android can now just walk in and get dressed without thinking about it.

Hank smiles fondly, and leaves a quarter on top of the hoodie.

 

* * *

 

He steps into the main part of the house just as Connor is waking up on the couch, untangling himself from a mixture of blankets and Sumo. Turning to the kitchen, the detective immediately finds himself looking at a mug of coffee.

“Good morning, Hank.” Markus says with a brightness that is in contrast with the tired expression in his mismatched eyes. “Coffee and thirium is available in separate machines, please do not confuse them. Sumo has been fed, and I took the liberty of phoning Gary Kayes with your lunch order. You may collect it from midday.”

Hank looks Markus directly in the eye. “Please move in.”

Markus laughs, before returning to prepare the thirium. Hank approaches the couch. It isn’t long before Connor rejoins them in the room, dressed in the clothes that Hank left out for him.

“How you doing, Sleepyhead?”

Connor’s LED flickers red as he looks at the television.

“Nah. We needed a new tv.” Hank says lightly, as he rests the mug on the coffee table, and stands. He raises his arms. “Come here.”

Connor wastes no time in collapsing against the detective, resting his forehead on Hank’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“Rough day yesterday, hey.” He says, patting him on the back. “You pulled through though. I’m real proud of you.” Hank looks round to share a quick smile with Markus as the older android puts Connor’s thirium mug on the coffee table before going to let Sumo out into the yard.

“You okay, son?” He turns back to Connor. “You’re looking groggy.”

“I just need to finish booting systems.”

“Well, take your time. Already told the office we won’t be in this week.”

“Again.” Connor shook his head, stepping back from the embrace. “You can’t keep doing that, Lieutenant. You will get into trouble.”

And there was the Connor that Hank knew and loved. Lecturing the detective, albeit with a somewhat tired edge to his voice.

“Relax. I used vacation time.”

“You should go to work. I will be fine here with Sumo.”

“So he can come home and find you staring into space again like last time.” Markus crosses his arms.

Connor glares at the devient leader over Hank’s shoulder. “Whose side are you on?”

“Right.” Hank looks at both Androids in turn. “I don’t want anymore talk about the office unless it comes banging on the door.”

And someone bangs the door.

“Fucking kidding me.” Hank turns around, but it is Markus who gets to the door first, not quite able to break his instinct as a domestic android.

“Good morning.” He answers brightly.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gavin demands, stood on the doorstep in plane clothes and holding a large cardboard box under one arm.

“Markus.”

“Markus.” Gavin shakes his head and pushed past the devient leader and into the house.

“Come on in, Reed.” Hank says sarcastically. Behind him, Connor slowly sinks back into the couch, pulling up his hood. “Me Cassa es su Cassa.”

Gavin glances at Connor, but then turns to focus on Markus. “You starting an android care home, Hank?”

“Everyone needs a hobby.” Hank says, walking into the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. “What do you want?”

“Hey, I want to be here as much as you want me here, but SOMEONE went and booked the week off because their plastic pet broke, so now I need a case handover.”

Sat on the couch with his knees drawn to his chest, Connor pulls the hoodie further up, so his face is completely hidden from view when his head tips forward. Seeing the younger android’s distress, Markus moves to stand between him and Gavin.

“May I enquire as to the contents of the box?”

“Oh, you may ENQUIRE.” Gavin spits, opening the box and pulling out what looks like a candy bar. “Do you know what this is? No? It’s solidified blue blood.” He holds the bar up to Markus’s face. “Candy for androids.” He tips the box so Markus can see inside. “Candy bars. Potato chips. Brownies. Soda. Seriously, you damn pricks take our jobs, our houses, and now you’re taking our fucking vending machines. It’s like nothing’s sacred anymore.”

“You purchased a lot?”

“Yeah well.” Gavin shoves the box at Markus, giving a dismissive shrug as he does so. “Depression 101, eat crap food.” He turns to Hank. “Why do you think I gain weight whenever I’m off sick.”

Hank is expressionless, not sure at first how to react to what is basically kindness from the younger man.

Said man groans, and holds out a beckoning hand. “Case handover?”

Hank gives Gavin a half smile before disappearing into the bedroom to find the case envelope. “Male victim. 30s.” He calls back. “Suspect is male AX400 model.”

“Claiming self defence.”

“Good guess.”

“Same shit, different case.” Gavin looks around the kitchen, and wrinkles his nose. “Your house stinks of booze.”

“Get fucked, Gavin.”

“You ain’t my type, Hank.” Gavin shouts back as Hank re-emerges from the bedroom, all but throwing the envelope at him.

“Right. Case handed over. Now get out of my house.”

“With pleasure.” Gavin throws Hank a sarcastic salute with the envelope, and makes his own way to the door. “Get better soon, Prick. Place is boring without you to bully.”

“Gavin.” Hank’s tone carries a warning, but he is also smiling.

“See yah in a week.” Gavin says before slamming the front door behind him.

“This food is actually quite edible.” Markus is saying as he takes another helping of potato chips. Meanwhile, on the couch, Connor takes his first bite of the candy bar, before nodding in agreement.

He swallows the mouthful, and turns to Hank. “Was Detective Reed just...NICE to me?”

It’s Markus that answers. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“What enemy do we share?” Connor flinches slightly as Hank, by way of an explanation, gently taps him on the head twice before picking up the box.

“Take one more, then no more till this afternoon. Don’t want your teeth rotting as well as your CPU.”

Hank chuckles as he carries the box into the kitchen, then his face falls.

 _Don’t eat too much. You’ll rot your teeth_.

He used to say that to Cole.

 

* * *

 

After the fourth time, Markus decides on a more proactive approach.

Every tuesday and saturday, Connor visits Jericho and sits while Markus, or occasionally Simon, helps him to clear up and processes that his CPU can’t cope with alone. As a result, the episodes stop, and Connor starts to smile more.

But Hank knows it’s only a stop gap. Because each session gets longer and longer, and before long they are discussing adding a third session each week.

Connor is getting worse. They might reach a point where he needs daily sessions.

And it will continue to get worse until….

Eventually...

 

* * *

 

Connor is lecturing Hank about his drinking habits when the detective says it.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Connor Anderson.”

They don’t mention it afterwards. But, things change between them.

 

* * *

 

Hank finishes clearing out Cole’s old room, and encourages Connor to choose furniture. A desk, a bed, a wardrobe. And a potted plant that Hank decides to call Bruno the Bush.

Connor doesn’t understand naming the plant, but he also calls the plant Bruno.

 

* * *

 

Hank prays for the first time since Cole went into the operating theatre.

 

* * *

 

Connor now has four sessions a week at Jericho.

 

* * *

 

It is friday morning.

Connor is 9 months old when Markus arrives on the doorstep of Hank’s house. He looks upset, maybe even angry. But he also brings news.

They have a way to help Connor.

But there is a catch.

 

* * *

 

Connor will be nine months old during the fifth time.

The fifth time will be the worst one.


	3. Friday, 27th May 2039

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as the two paragraphs of exposition that exploded into a chapter in their own right.

The fifth time is a Friday. Connor is 9 months old.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s raining outside as Markus sits on the couch, Connor beside him, and stares at his own hands.

It is several minutes before he speaks.

“We...um. We lost one of the kids yesterday.”

“Kids?” Hank sits on Markus’s other side. “One of the child androids.”

“I've warned them so many times about playing in that ruin...it’s dangerous...but they don’t listen.”

“Just like human children.” Hank says, sadly.

“A wall collapsed.” Markus shakes his head. ”Simon did his best but she was too badly damaged and…”

“Jesus, Markus. I’m sorry.” Hank says. “What was her name?”

He gives Markus a small smile. “Milly.”

“Milly. Small. Red hair. I remember her.” Connor’s voice is quiet. “She liked cartoons.”

Markus huffs, the beginning of a sob that he forces back down. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Hank gives Markus what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “If anyone has earned the right to sit and cry their eyes out on my couch, it’s you.”

“Thank you, Hank. But that’s not why I am here.” Markus takes a deep breath, wiping at his eyes, before continuing. “Before she shutdown...died...Milly said that she wanted her biocomponents to be used to help other androids.” Markus looks down at the floor for a moment, before turning to Connor. “Her Hybrid CPU is intact.”

Hank holds up his hands. “You said a new CPU wasn’t an option.”

“YK500 Hybrids aren’t full CPUs. They’re...enhancements. They sit alongside the main CPU and, as the YK500 learns and experiences over time, the hybrid adds processing power and memory.”

“So the kid gets smarter as they get older.”

“Just like a human child.”

“So, can we give this Hybrid to Connor?”

Markus nods, turning to address Connor. “It would do what me and Simon have been doing during the sessions, only it would be working 24/7, even in sleep mode. No more buildups. No more episodes. You’d be...fixed.”

“Fixed.” Connor whispers the word. He had partly given up hope.

“Any side effects?” Hank says. “Besides this smart ass getting smarter.”

“Well he might pick up one or two childish characteristics.” Markus says, although the humour is short lived. “But...there is a catch.”

Connor’s face falls. “A catch?”

Markus sits back in the couch, resting a hand on Connor’s arm before turning to Hank. “The Hybrid will need to be recalibrated after it’s installed, and the processing power will almost certainly trigger an episode.”

Connor immediately tenses.

“But hey, that’s okay.” Hank says. “Markus just helps you through it like before, and then it’s over.”

Connor breaks eye contact, looking down at the floor, his LED flashing red.

“Connor?”

“They won’t be able to help me, Hank?” His voice is quiet.

Markus bites his bottom lip. “During the calibration, the Hybrid can’t come into contact with another CPU.”

Connor nods, silently.

“Wait, so this thing will make him blue screen, and he’s going to be on his own” Hank paces back and forward. “You KNOW what these episodes do to him.” He knows his voice is rising. “How long will this recalibration take?”

“Six hours.”

“Six hours!” Hank shouts. “Speed it up.”

“That IS sped up.” Markus bites back, standing. “Anymore and it’ll short circuit. Hank I don’t like it anymore than you, but this is the best option we have right now.”

“No it isn’t.” Hank shouts back. “Carry on as before. The sessions at Jericho…”

“Are a temporary measure and you know that.” Markus widens his arms. “They are not a long term solution.”

“But torturing him IS?”

“It’s only six hours.” Connor says, opening his eyes and looking at his friend. “Six hours, then the Hybrid is initialised and it’s...”

“Six hours of emotional HELL.” Hank shouts, stepping closer to Connor so he can wrap a hand around the back of the young android’s neck. “What if you shut down?”

“The Hybrid security settings will prevent shut down.” Markus says.

“Will it also prevent a self destruct?”

Connor flinches.

Markus looks down. “No.”

“How high do you reckon his stress levels are going to get, Markus?”

Markus nods. “I estimate that there is a 32% chance of this process being fatal.”

Hank growls. “It’s too dangerous. No.”

“Hank...”

“I said NO, Markus. He’s not doing it.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Lieutenant.” Connor’s says, his tone incredulous.

“Connor.” Hank grabs him by the shoulders. “Please tell me you are not fucking considering this.”

Connor shakes his head. “The build ups are getting more frequent. I’ll need daily sessions soon.”

“So what!” Hank points at Markus. “It’s better than dead.”

“32% is good odds.” Connor says, distantly. “Six hours. And then it’s over..”

Markus lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “I think take some time…”

“What time?” Connor says, desperately. “If this will work then just do what you need to do. Install the Hybrid.”

“Connor.”

“It’s the right thing to do, Lieutenant. If it means I’m fixed. If it means Milly’s death means something. She was a child...”

“YOU’RE A CHILD, CONNOR!”

The shout echoes for several seconds, and Sumo barks in the yard.

“Christ.” Hank swallows, and then marches into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Connor stands still, lost in the living room of the house he lives in, the only sound his own thirium pump (which he is sure that Markus must here), Sumo barking, and…

**[Emotional distress detected. Human. Identity Hank Anderson - Family]**

Connor stops at the closed door, counts to three, and then knocks.

“Lieutenant?”

“Stay the fuck out, Connor.”

“Hank. I think we should discuss this.” Connor knocks again. “Please invite me in.”

Connor notices the sound of the front door clicking closed, Markus having left to give them their privacy.

“Please, Hank.”

When he doesn’t get an answer, Connor cracks the door open. When that receives no response, he pushes it open further.

Hank is sat on the bed, both hands wrapped around a picture frame. Connor can’t see what the photo is of, but it must be of Cole. He can see that gap in the dust where it sits on the bedside table, next to another photo of Hank’s young son.

“Hank?” Connor steps forward.

“Fuck, Connor, you’re less than a year old. You’re younger than my son was.” Hank shakes his head, tears glistening around his eyes as he looks up. “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you like I lost him. Not like this. Not when you've barely begun to live.”

Connor blinks, clearly overwhelmed by the detectives words.

The detective looks back down at the photograph. “I’m sorry, kid. If I could swap places with you, I would. If I...you shouldn’t be going through all this.”

“But I am.” Connor says. “And what’s wrong with me is only going to get worse. Hank, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to…leave...you, but you told me that being deviant means I can make choices. Hank I choose to take a chance at a normal life. At being fixed…”

Hank looks away, his fingers tightening around the photo frame.

“If that’s what you want.”

“So you agree.”

“Of course I don’t agree.” Hank shouts. “But it doesn’t matter what I think, Connor. Like you said, you’re a deviant, make your own God damn choice.”

“Please, Hank. I need you to agree.”

“You don’t need my approval.”

“I do.”

“Why?” Hank looks back, his angry expression quickly melting when he sees the desperate look on Connor’s face.

“Because I don’t want to be alone.”

It hits Hank like a punch to the stomach.

“What. Connor. No.” Hank puts the photo down, stands, and all but grabs the Android, pulling into a hug so tight that Connor’s pressure senses throw up an error. “You think I would leave you to do this alone? Whether I agree or not with your decisions, don’t ever think that I would abandon you, okay son.” Hank’s voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Connor nods, a single tear running down his cheek as he presses his face into Hank’s shoulder. “I know.”

“If you’re sure this is what you want, then let’s do it. But Connor, do you want to stay at Jericho while it activates?”

“No.” He answers instantly. “No, I want to be here.” He lifts his face. “I will feel safer here at home.”

Hank nods, unable to prevent the lump in his throat. It was the first time that he had heard Connor refer to the house as home.

“Then home it is.” The detective forces a smile onto his face, determined to be strong for Connor’s sake. “This time tomorrow, it will all be over. And you can get back to learning all about being alive.”

Connor returns the smile.

“Okay.” Hank says, pushing Connor out of the embrace, but keeping his hand on the android’s shoulder. “Let’s get it over with then.”

Connor’s eyes move to the photo on the bed, and he squeezes them shut.

He remembers that day. The Christmas party at the precinct. Hank had given him a ridiculous hat to wear. During the evening, Connor had noticed that several other people were pointing cameras at themselves and taking photographs, so he asked to borrow Hank’s phone.

The photograph is silly, goofy even. The angle is wrong, the hat suits Connor about as well as blue hair might, and Connor’s smile makes him look like a child on a sugar high.

He is waving at the camera while Hank glances over his shoulder from behind, eyes on the Android, expression one of exasperation, but something else as well.

Connor’s eyes open and once again glance at the space on the bedside table where the photo lives, next to a picture of Cole.

“I’m going to survive this.” Connor says, determined. “I’m going to survive.”


	4. Saturday, 28th May 2039

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note new tags in description. Thank you

Connor sits cross legged on his bed, listening to the rain pelting against the roof of the house. Sumo is curled up at the end of the bed, eyes following the android’s movements as Connor picks up a small water bottle from the floor and pours some of the contents into Bruno’s pot on the bedside table. He smiles, and looks at his internal clock.

“Twenty eight fifty five.” He says quietly, and there is a gentle knock at the bedroom door.

“Connor.”

Connor can’t move.

“Connor.” Hank says. “Can I come in?”

The Hybrid will come online at twenty one hundred.

It will begin at twenty one hundred.

It will begin in four minutes.

 

**[Stress Levels at 60%]**

 

“Connor, I’m going to come in, okay.” A second, and then the door opens and Hank steps in, waiting by the door. “You ready?”

Connor nods, biting his bottom lip as Hank calmly takes his arm, encouraging him off the bed, and leading him towards the living room. “Sumo.” The dog jumps down and follows them through to the living room.

The sides have been cleared of clutter and cleaned, some pillows and blankets laid out on the sofa. The television is on but muted, the picture appears to be a documentary about marine fish, and Connor finds himself focusing on this as Hank encourages him onto the couch, with Sumo sat on one side and Hank on the other. “You want the sound on?”

Connor shakes his head.

Ten seconds.

Hank rests a hand on his back, running it up and down.

Connor watches the fish.

Eight seconds.

Sumo whines, and nustles against Connor until the android sits back, allowing the dog room to rest its head on his leg.

Five.

Four.

Three.

“Hank?”

“I’m here.”

Connor closes his eyes.

 

 **[** **Begin Boot Sequence]**

**[Mounting] [2039-05-27 21:00]**

**[YK500 T #716-748-445-01 - - Milly]**

**[Calibrating]**

**[RK800 S #313-248-317-51 - - Connor]**

**[Calibrating]**

**[Software Instability detected. Compensating]**

**[Calibrating]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Calibrating]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[Stress Levels at 75%]**

 

Connor leans forward, forcing Sumo off his lap as he curls up, palms of his hands digging into his eyes.

 

**[Audio interference detected]**

**[Tactile interference detected]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Stress Levels at 85%]**

 

Connor screams, before forcing in a deep breath and pulling his hands away from his eyes. He can feel his LED burning red. He can see the fish.

He watches the fish.

“It’s okay.” Hank whispers, his voice barely audible. “It’s okay.”

He thinks that Angel Fish are his favourite. He always feels a stronger positive emotion when one appears on the screen.

 

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Callibrating]**

**[Stress Levels at 90%]**

**[Audio interference detected]**

 

A sharp pain rips through Connor’s head, and he can’t help crying out, wrapping his arms around his head and willing the pain to die down. It doesn’t, and he’s blinded by it. Sounds become muffled, he can hear that Hank is speaking but can’t make out the words.

This is the fifth blue screen that Connor has experienced, and it is already the worst one.

His stomach knots. He can’t breath. He doesn’t need to breath. But he can’t breath. He can’t breath. He can’t...

 

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[Stress Levels at 91%]**

 

It’s too loud. The pain shoots through his head. He can’t breath. His head feels like it’s going to explode.

 

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Stress Levels at 92%]**

 

Error after error buzzes. He has to get away. Has to get away. Run. Can’t breath. Run. It hurts.

He hears Hank shout.

He runs. He falls. He feels a hard floor beneath him. He can’t breath.

There’s something soft in his arms, and he feels…

 

**[Tactile interference detected]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[Tactile interference detected]**

**[CPU failure. Overclock]**

**[Tactile interference detected]**

**[Subroutine suspension]**

**[Recalibrating]**

**[Stress Levels at 93%]**

**[Stress Levels at 94%]**

 

He feels....

 

**[Remote PL600 [Modified] signal detected. Deactivate error report. [y] [n]]**

**[Remote PL600 [Modified] signal detected. [y]]**

**[Deactivating error reporting system.]**

 

He feels…

 

* * *

 

 

Hank checks the screen on the device that Simon has given him, and lowers it to the floor beside him.

Connor is sat on the kitchen floor, as good as curled around Sumo. The dog is calm. He is well practiced to the routine of offering comfort to a distressed Hank, so offering the same to Connor is nothing new. Nevertheless, Hank gives the St Bernard a quick pat on the head before adjusting his sitting position on the floor and draping an arm across Connor’s back. “Hey?”

Connor looks round, his face a picture of misery and emotion, all except the eyes. His eyes are dead, hollow. He looks at Hank, but the older detective isn’t sure that he is actually being seen.

“I switched off your error reporting. Should make things a bit quieter in there.” Hank somehow manages to keep a reassuring smile on his face, but it’s hard.

“I can’t breath.”

“You don’t need to breath, Connor.”

“I want to breath.” Connor presses his fingers into his temple, pressing on the LED.

“Come here.” Hank says, no nonsense as he wraps his arms around Connor and pulls the android, who in turn pulls Sumo, into a hug.

The first sob is more of a hiccup, but then they come stronger until Connor’s whole body is shaking with them. He squirms to bury his face against Hank’s t-shirt, arms trembling as they tighten their hold around Sumo while Hank, in turn, tightens his hold around Connor, hand moving up to stroke his hair. With nothing else to say, the Lieutenant starts to hum an old Jazz tune, figuring a little bit extra audio input would be okay now the error reporting is muted.

Finally, Connor calms down, although tears still stream down his face as he collapses, exhausted, against Hank. Sumo is released from his hold, but he doesn’t move except to settle down next to the pair, giving a happy chortle as Hank pats him between the ears.

“How you doing there, Connor?”

“Don’t stop.”

Hank isn’t sure what he means. The humming or the hug. Nevertheless he continues both as Connor feels his mind collapse down into what can only be described as a fog, eyes unfocused. He looks at his hand and notices, distantly, that his skin keeps flickering off and on.

“Don’t worry about that.” Hank whispers, moving a blanket to cover Connor's hands. “The Hybrid will fix that when it comes online." Hank hopes that what he is saying is true. "Just focus on me and Sumo. You don’t need to worry about anything else for the moment.”

Connor presses his face into Hank’s chest, and his LED blinks, turning yellow for a moment before switching back to red.

“There.” Hank says. “It’s okay.” He stands, encouraging Connor up and helping him back to the couch. The documentary has finished, so Hank restarts it and then settles beside Connor on the couch. “You’re doing great. Do you want the sound on?” He points at the tv.

Connor shakes his head.

 

* * *

 

“Hank?”

“I’m here.”

Even without the bombardment of error messages, Connor is still conscious of the CPU struggling against the onslaught of processes. Sharp pain shoots through him, clutching at his stomach and making him feel sick. His skin continues to flicker off and on. 

Connor's skin flickering reminds Hank of a light bulb, and he remembers when Cole had been a baby, and one of the circuit breakers had become faulty. They couldn't replace it until morning, so they had to switch off everything in the house that wasn't vital.

It gives him an idea. 

Hank takes a breath, calming his voice before speaking. “Okay, let’s try something. Connor, take my hand.” He reaches out, grasping the Android’s hand with a tight grip. “I might not be Markus, but maybe we can still lighten the load on that system of yours.”

Connor coughs.

“Okay.” Hank gently grips Connor’s chin so the Android is looking straight at him. “Focus, son. What can we switch off.”

Connor shakes his head. His vision is too blurred.

“Do you have anything going on in there that is not needed? Anything you can switch off without breaking.”

It’s a minute before Connor can speak. “Uncanny valley.”

“Uncanny valley?”

“Blinking...skin...”

“All the stuff making you appear more human? Okay. Connor, are you able to switch them off somehow.”

He nods.

“Do it.”

Connor looks at Hank, and his skin slowly fades to white plastic. His eyes open and remain open. Hank can no longer feel a pulse in the hand he is holding.

Connor looks down, pulling the hood further forward to cover his face. Hank lets him. He knows that he should discourage the shame that Connor has had of his ‘Android appearance’ since turning deviant, but now is definitely not the time.

“Better?”

The Android nods.

“Okay.” He looks at the device. “Three hours to go. You’re halfway there, son. What else can we switch.”

Connor’s hand tightens around Hank’s. “I..” his voice sounds more mechanical now, and Hank does he best to stop that small flinch that that causes. “Learning and memory processing.”

“Can’t see this being something you want to learn too much from.”

There’s a loud pitch whine, and Connor sighs. “Done.”

“Anything else?”

“Processors for environmental input.”

“Senses? No, Connor you won’t be able to....”

Connor nods, and leans into Hank’s embrace.

“Okay. Okay. But keep touch on. Just switch off your eyes and ears.” Hank quietly hopes that he can switch those back on remotely if Connor's stress levels become too high.

“I’ll know it’s you.” Connor taps Hank’s arm. “Don’t let go.”

The lump in Hank’s throat feels like a rock as he nods. “I won’t let go.”

Another high pitched whine.

And Connor seems to switch off.

Darkness.

Silence.

No reporting.

He can...feel...his body. Knots in the stomach. Pain. His breathing. He can feel his breathing. He’s breathing. His brain is slowing down, sending a sensation of static that he can’t escape from. And...motion. He’s rocking from side to side. The embrace tightens, and he feels Hank rest the side of his face against Connor’s crown.

He focuses on that, becomes lost in it, no longer making new memories or analysing the old beyond a few minutes back. He’s in a single moment now, one where the pain is distant. He’s breathing. And Hank is there.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor feels Hank squeeze his hand. He squeezes the hand back, and feels Sumo rest on his lap.

 

 

* * *

 

Hank comes back from the bathroom and kneels next to the sofa, burying his face against his arm as he rests against the side, his other hand reaching up to take Connor’s.

“When this is over, I’m going to take you to camping.” Hank knows that Connor can’t hear him, and wouldn’t be able to remember the conversation if he could, but he can’t stand the silence in the room.

“Me and Cole used to go camping. We’d pitch a tent up in the woods, make a fire and cook smores over them. Sumo running around sniffing everything. Don’t know if you can eat smores, Connor. Maybe we can try some of that solid thirium crap that Gavin gave you.” He chuckles, hand subconsciously reaching to stroke Connor’s head over the hood. He can’t help but study the plastic appearance of Connor’s face. It’s his first time seeing Connor without his skin activated. “You can see the stars so well. None of the fucking lights that the city throws out. Me and Cole, we’d make shapes in them. We’re going to do that too. And tell stories.”

Connor’s eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking.

“Cole climbed this huge forest tree once. Frightened the life out of me. He was so high, he said he could see the whole planet from the top of it…” Hank’s voice cracks.

 

* * *

 

 

Hank jumps as his cell phone beeps. It’s Markus. HOW IS HE?

Connor doesn’t move except for the occasional twitch, but when Hank squeezes his hand, the squeeze is returned.

Hank can barely focus on the screen as he types. HANGING IN THERE.

One hour to go.

 

* * *

 

 

**[Callibration 100%]**

**[Remote PL600 [Modified] signal detected. Engage sleep mode. [y] [n]]**

 

* * *

 

 

**[Begin Boot Sequence]**

**[Mounting] [2039-02-17 08:00]**

**[RK800 S #313-248-317-51 - - Connor]**

**[Error on startup. Software Instability detected. Compensating.]**

**[Additional CPU detected. Bypassing fault.]**

 

Connor comes out of sleep mode to find himself looking at an empty cardboard carton that, a few hours ago, probably contained some form of chinese takeout. He lays there, hood still covering his head, curled on his side in a foetal position on the couch.

Connor’s movement alerts Hank that he is awake. “Hey?”

Connor can only blink in response.

“No talking?” Hank kneels in front of him.

Connor opens his mouth…

...his thoughts fade, already exhausted just by trying to talk.

“Hardware damage, or just not feeling up to it?” After a moment, Hank shakes his head, and holds out both his hands as fists in front of Connor.

“Hardware.” He flinches with the left hand. “Not up to it.” Right hand flinches.

A moment, then Connor reaches up to tap the right hand.

“Okay. That’s okay, kid.” Hank rests a hand on the android’s forehead. “You talk when you are ready.”

Connor turns his head to the side, and focuses on the carton. Yellow, red writing. Chinese translates to _Good Health in Eating_.

He’s exhausted, but he forces himself to sit up. He can smell blackbean sauce and, out of instinct, he runs his finger along the edge of the carton, ready to put a sample in his mouth for analysis.

“I wouldn’t.” Hank says, grabbing Connor’s hand in his own. “Last thing your brain needs right now is a full chemical analysis to process. Plus it’s disgusting, Connor. Carton’s been out all night.” Hank uses the edge of his own shirt to wipe Connor’s hand clean as he sits down beside him.

Connor focuses on his hand, long after Hank cleaned it for him. For him. Caring for him. A small gesture that causes that warm feeling to return. They sit quietly, looking at the television without really watching it, and Connor focuses on the warm feeling in his chest.

**[Subroutine #2039-02-18#14 - Designation “unknown emotional/physical response to stimulus. Searching for schematic fit. Searching. Searching. Searching. Additional CPU detected. Analysing definition.]**

“Love.”

Hank looks at Connor, quizzically.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. I...it doesn’t matter.”

“It speaks.”

Connor smiles, closing his eyes for a moment and enjoying the closeness.

“Can I, confess to something strange.”

“Sure, Connor. I promise not to judge too much.”

Connor chuckles, used to Hank’s humour by now. “I won’t miss the episodes, but I will...miss...the mornings after one.”

“You’ll miss feeling like depressed, exhausted crap that’s been hit by 6 buses?”

Connor hugs himself, shaking his head. “Being cared for. Protected. Being...held. It makes me feel an emotion that I...like.”

Hank gives him a knowing smile. “You like being looked after. That’s normal. That’s...very human. Especially in kids." He encourages the android back down onto his side, head rested on a pillow in the detectives lap.

“Those doesn’t have to stop." Hank slowly runs his fingers through Connor's hair. "We can still have lazy mornings like this.”

He chuckles at the overjoyed grin that brings to Connor’s face as he curls up tighter against the pillow, watching the tv.

“Lieutenant?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you put the sound on, please?”

“What...oh right.” And he unmutes the documentary.

 

* * *

 

 

It's Saturday. Connor is 9 months old.

And he will live to be older still.

Markus is the first to emerge from Jericho, immediately grabbing Connor’s arm almost before the Android has finished getting out of the car. “It worked? You’re okay?”

“It worked.” Connor’s voice is low, not quite having lost that _machine_ quality to it yet.

“Still a bit fragile today.” Hank says as he steps around that car, clasping the younger Android on the shoulder. “But he’ll live. Did himself proud last night.” Hank lowers his voice. “Did me proud.”

That earns him a smile, albeit a small one.

“Come on.” Markus starts to head back into Jericho. “We should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Connor says immediately, flinching when both Markus and Hank turn to look at him.

“Connor?” Hank asks.

“Someone died.” Connor says, his voice rising. “I’m better because Milly died. We shouldn’t celebrate someone dying.”

“Connor, we went through this this morning...”

“Hank. I’m grateful to be fixed, but I just don’t want to celebrate it.”

“Well I don’t agree.”  Markus puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “We _should_ celebrate. We should celebrate Milly having been alive. And we should celebrate the gift she’s given you.” He taps the side of Connor’s head. “And you should come inside. Simon will want to check you over.”

Connor let's himself be half dragged by Markus into Jericho, but he stops just past the entrance, Hank stood behind him.

There’s a small tv here, surrounded by YK500s. Some sit with their human parents, others with android caretakers, watching cartoons. They laugh along to the animated antics, sing along to the themes.

Connor feels...joy?

“Cole loved cartoons.” Hank says, stood.

“I...I think I like them too.”

 

**[Software Instability.]**

**[Additional CPU detected.]**

**[Bypassing fault.]**

 

**[Software stabilising.]**


	5. EPILOGUE - Tuesday, 2nd August 2039

Connor is 12 months old.

 

* * *

 

 

The bus drops him off at the corner of the small, well kept street. From there he counts down doors. “Number 2. Number 4. Ah, Number 6.” He taps the postbox, emblazoned with the surname ‘Reed’, and makes his way to the front door.

It takes two rounds of knocking before the bleary eyed detective opens the door, dressed in pyjamas that appear to be more than a day old. His eyes are red rimmed, hair unkempt.

Hank would probably say ‘He looks a fucking mess.’

“Hello, Detective Reed.” Connor says, brightly, pointedly ignoring the disheveled appearance. “Today is my first birthday, so I brought cakes and treats into the precinct. As you are currently too unwell to attend work, I thought I should deliver some to your home.” He hands Gavin the box, which the detective accepts with a dumbfounded expression.

He opens his mouth to speak, but can’t seem to find the words. He looks up to find Connor looking over his shoulder, into the house. His expression is grim as he regards the discarded food cartons and unwashed dishes in the kitchen at the end of the hall. He can’t see the other rooms, but he imagines that things aren’t fairing better.

“You would rest more comfortably in clean and tidy surroundings, Detective Reed.”

Gavin shrugs.

Connor tilts his head to the side for a moment, LED going yellow, then rights himself. “I have just texted Lieutenant Anderson to say I will be later home. That is, if you are not opposed to having an android in your house.”

Gavin’s expression asks his question for him.

“It will be no trouble, Detective.” Connor says. “It will aid your recovery.” He drops his voice. “And I promise not to tell anyone at the precinct. I would hate to ruin your ‘android hating jerk’ reputation.”

"You want to clean my house?"

"As you are so fond of saying, androids such as myself exist to serve humans."

Gavin looks at the box. "Didn't you just say it's your birthday?"

"As an android I find joy in menial tasks."

Gavin knows bullshit when he hears it, but he also smiles for maybe the first time in a week, before stepping to the side, and inviting Connor in with a raised hand. “Knock yourself out. Saves me doing it.”

The android welcomes the gesture with a nod, and then makes his way to the kitchen to get started on the dishes.

Closing the front door, Gavin sits down on the floor, back against the wall, and opens the box. Rested on top of the contents (his favourite candy from the vending machine, as well as some cakes) is a small card.

 

_GET WELL SOON._

_JEFFREY, BEN, CHRIS, TINA, PAUL, HANK, CONNOR_

 

_PS. KID PUT_ ** _WAY_** _TOO MUCH SUGAR IN THE CAKES. DON’T EAT MORE THAN ONE A DAY - HANK_

 

Gavin chuckles, then reads the first part of the card and the names again. And again.

He doesn’t realise that he is crying until he sees Connor sitting beside him.

He wipes his eyes. "Try to hug me and I will shoot you."

Connor puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender, then reaches one hand out. Gavin looks at it for a moment, then accepts the handshake. 

They sit side by side for a while in silence, before Gavin speaks.

“Don't you have work to do?”

Connor smiles, and gets up to finish cleaning the house while Gavin eats one of the cakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
